


Burn for You

by storyspinner70



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alpha Dean Winchester, Alpha Sam Winchester, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Bondage, Bottom Sam Winchester, Dom Dean Winchester, Dom/sub, M/M, Non-Traditional Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Not Canon Compliant, Possessive Dean Winchester, Sub Sam Winchester, Top Dean Winchester
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-14
Updated: 2020-06-14
Packaged: 2021-03-04 05:02:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,141
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24708040
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/storyspinner70/pseuds/storyspinner70
Summary: No one was surprised when both Winchester boys became alphas. The surprise came when Sam figured out that, while he might be happy to be an alpha, the only place he really wanted to be was on his knees for his brother.
Relationships: Dean Winchester/Sam Winchester
Comments: 11
Kudos: 140
Collections: Wincest Reverse Bang





	Burn for You

**A/N:** Title from the amazing tune _Love is Fire_ by Freya Ridings. Also, did you see the art for this? Did you? If you din't, then head this way to see the amazing art by [darklittleheart96](https://darklittleheart96.tumblr.com/post/620803428200923136/burn-for-you-by-storyspinner70?is_highlighted_post=1). Trust me; you won't regret it! Oooops, I forgot to thank my trusty editor. My commas would be frightening without you!

**Burn for You**

Sam Winchester didn’t wear much jewelry. Didn’t wear any at all, in fact, until he came home from college. Most people assumed the wide leather cuff was a tribute to his girlfriend but no one knew quite what to make of it when another joined it not long after.

No one asked, of course. Sam had a brother, after all, and guard dog didn’t even begin to cover the way he took care of his brother. It was surprising to say the least.

No one had been surprised though, when Sam left home. He and his brother were both Alphas. You might get away with dealing when your father or mother is an Alpha, but siblings tend to need to be separated sooner or later before they let their warring natures get the best of them.

If Dean moved through the world like a ghost for awhile after Sam left, well that was just to be expected. They’d been so close as children and it was hard to lose your little brother that way. But Sam didn’t stay gone.

There was a demon, a fight or two and then Sam started wearing a wide leather cuff on his right wrist. No one thought much about it. Hunters knew what grief was, and you did what you had to to get through it. 

The Winchesters had a lot of grief to get through.

Things changed - just as much as they stayed exactly the same. The boys were still the best hunters around, but skills honed from the time they were children became razor sharp and even more deadly. They were vicious somehow, but settled in a way they’d never been before.

A few months later, a matching cuff appeared on Sam’s left wrist. People noticed. No one mentioned it. They wouldn’t dare.

“You have to be sure, Sammy.”

“I’m as sure of this as you are that Led Zeppelin are gods made into men.”

“It’s no time for jokes,” Dean barked. “Focus.”

Sam dropped his head instinctively. “I’m sure, Dean.”

On the table in front of Sam were three items. Two supple wide leather bands and a thick hefty collar.

“This,” Dean said, pointing at the collar, “will be earned. For now, you’ll wear this cuff. It’s a sign of my ownership and my protection. Is that understood?”

“Yes, sir,” Sam breathed, his eyes trained on the collar.

Dean sat down in front of Sam. “You have to be sure, Sammy,” Dean stated quietly. “I can’t do this if I don’t know for sure that you want this. That you want me.”

Sam stood up and crouched down in front of Dean. “I never told you,” he started, “the real reason I went to Stanford.”

Dean frowned.

“From the moment you got your knot, I wanted you. Before that, probably, if I were honest.”

Dean caught his breath.

“It was always you, Dean,” Sam said. “Always. I love being an alpha. It’s not about that. I just…” Sam trailed off. “I need you.”

“Sammy,” Dean whispered.

“I need you to take it all away from me. To tell me what I need and when. I need you to set me free.”

Dean cleared his throat and stood. “Kneel, Sam, and lay your right wrist on my knee after I’m seated.”

Dean rummaged in his duffel for a moment then walked back to Sam, touching briefly on the back of Sam’s bent neck before Dean sat down.

Sam leaned forward and presented his right arm like Dean instructed.

“I’ve been thinking of this for a long time,” Dean said. “Long before you brought it up, actually.”

Sam shuddered at the deep slow tone to Dean’s voice.

“I thought it was just me. I thought it was just the way we grew up, you know?”

Sam knew.

“I thought maybe I was just getting everything all messed up in my head. Like you’re here, and my job is to protect you, but all I wanted was you to be an omega so I could fuck you,” he paused. “So I could own you,” he finished.

Sam clenched his fist to keep from touching Dean. He didn’t have permission.

“I thought, sometimes you felt the same. Times when I’d glance up and you were watching me. You had this look and I just…” Dean trailed off. “You were happy with being an alpha though, and I knew then that it was just me.”

Sam took a chance and interrupt. “It was never just you.”

Dean splayed his hand over the top of Sam’s head. “Samuel Winchester, I offer you this cuff as a symbol of what might be. It is a promise to you and your promise to me. Do you accept?”

“I do.”

Dean smiled, “It’s not church, Sam. We’re not getting married.”

Sam smiled. “Yet.”

“Shh,” Dean warned. “I had these cuffs and collar made a long time ago. I hoped they would be for you, but had made up my mind that would never happen. Then you blew my mind.” Dean’s voice shook the slightest bit. “You wanted me, too.”

“Yes,” Sam breathed.

“Do you accept?” Dean repeated.

“I accept.”

Dean stretched out the cuff under Sam’s arm. “The cuff will be sewn on. If it should ever need removed, I’ll do it. Agreed?”

“I understand.”

Dean reached for a tiny spool of translucent thread and a curved leather needle. “This is lifetime thread. Both of us and the leather itself will rot and crumble before the thread will.”

“I never knew there was such a thing.”

Dean glanced up from where he was sewing the cuff onto Sam’s wrist. “I did a lot of research over the years.”

Sam smiled. “I thought that was my job.”

“Some people are worth the work,” Dean said simply.

Dean worked quickly and firmly, his stitches tight and even - all their years of closing wounds had come in handy for more than suturing flesh and blood.

In the end, Sam clutched at the warm leather bound tight to his wrist. There were runes on the underside and Sam could almost feel them pulse against his skin. These spelled out Dean’s name, and Sam knew the other one was branded with the runes for “owned”.

For a moment, he wanted them both like breathing. Evening out his breath, he paused. All he had to do was wait.

And obey.

He’s got this.

Four hours later, Sam was hanging from a rack screaming, his fingers clutching the chain over his head like it was going to save him.

_He’s not got this. He was wrong. He was so wrong. He was going to die if that flogger fell across his back one more time. Dean. Dean why…_

“Color, Sammy! Don’t make me ask you again!”

“Gr-green,” Sam stuttered. _Green like your eyes. Green like the grass. Green like the apples we stole that summer we stayed in North Carolina for five weeks._ “Green.” 

Dean dropped the flogger and pulled Sam up to face him. “Sammy,” he whispered. “Sammy what’s your color?”

“R-r-red,” Sam croaked, the word nearly silent.

“Oh, Sammy.”

Sam hadn’t known was he was asking for. Not really. It didn’t mean he didn’t want it once he did know. It just meant they had a lot of work to do.

And work they did.

Sam lay languidly and let Dean lift his hands high up to the headboard.

“Keep them there,” Dean warned.

Sam considered letting them fall, just a little, just one of them, but Dean was staring at him, stonefaced, and Sam reconsidered.

“Obey,” Dean chided. “Don’t ruin this.”

Sam nodded. It had taken him years to figure out where the real power that Dean wielded so effortlessly came from. Dean had been telling him and telling him, but it wasn’t until Dean broke down in the middle of the bunker dungeons one night that Sam fully understood.

Sam had been restless for weeks. He’d been struggling with the fact that Dean had let an angel inhabit his body without his knowledge. An angel that lied about who he was. An angel that murdered - with Sam’s hands.

Dean was apologetic, but still maintained he’d do the same thing if it ever happened again. His only objective was keeping Sam alive; even if that meant doing something Sam didn’t want. After days of vicious fights and frigid silences, Sam took shears to the threads of his cuffs and left them and his collar on Dean’s bed.

He was packing when Dean stormed into his room. Dean was so far past angry he could barely speak. His jaw was clenched tight when he demanded to know where Sam was going and why he’d removed his cuffs.

Sam had spat back at him and the next thing he knew, Dean was dragging him down the hall, clearly headed to the dungeons. Sam fought with everything he had, but Dean was vicious and it wasn’t long before he’d shoved Sam into their punishment space and slammed and locked the door.

He whirled around before Sam was ready for him and Sam flinched and pulled his shoulders up to his ears. Dean stopped, his hand still stretched out for Sam.

Horror washed over his face like a wave and he crumpled to his knees. “Oh god, oh god, oh god. Sammy. I’m so…”

He stood and quickly unlocked the door. “Go, Sam.”

Sam hesitated, but Dean shoved him toward the door.

“Go!” He barked.

Sam went, but only right outside the door, out of sight.

Sam could hear Dean sweeping through the room, breaking canes and paddles, dismantling the spanking bench and the stockade. He was panting and cursing and slamming things into the concrete walls and floor of the room. Piece by piece, everything in their punishment room was demolished.

Sam, leaning still and silent against the wall outside, wondered if they were just as broken.

They weren’t, but it was a very close thing.

It took them a long time to come back from that night, and even longer for Dean to give Sam what he needed again. In fact, it took them until Sam stood screaming at Dean with his cuffs in his hand to come full circle.

“If you can’t trust yourself how can I trust you?” He yelled in Dean’s face. “You told me these were a promise to me, remember that? Did you forget that?”

“You took them off, Sam. I didn’t.”

“Do you blame me? You let me be a fucking body condom for a bloodthirsty fucking angel and wouldn’t even apologize!”

“I told you I was sorry!” Dean finally yelled back. “I got your fucking point already!”

“Then why haven’t you put these back?” Sam raised his fist full of cuffs in front of Dean.

Dean just turned away and Sam, tired beyond his limit, threw the smooth pieces of leather at Dean’s back as hard as he could.

“You’re a fucking coward.”

“Congratulations, Sammy,” Dean said. “You solved it.”

“I’m going out,” Sam hissed. “I’m going to find someone who isn’t so afraid to hurt me. Don’t wait up.”

Sam didn’t make it ten steps before Dean had him pressed tight to the wall.

“I don’t fucking think so,” Dean hissed in Sam’s ear.

“You won’t give me what I want, so I’ll find someone who will,” Sam replied.

Dean just tightened his grip.

Sam twisted around in Dean’s hold until they were face to face. “Don’t. Wait. Up,” he told Dean, carefully enunciating every word.

“You’re not going anywhere.”

“Why should I stay?”

Dean grimaced and wound his hands in the back of Sam’s hair, dragging him to where the cuffs still lay in the middle of the floor. Using Sam’s hair, he forced Sam to his knees. “You got these dirty. Clean them up.”

Sam picked them up, his hands shaking, and tried to struggle to his feet, but Dean wouldn’t let him up.

“You don’t need to go anywhere. Lick them clean. Then I want you to tell me what they mean to you.” Dean leaned down, so close Sam could feel Dean’s humid breath on his cheek. “Tell me why I should let you have them back. Tell me what you’ll do to get them back.”

Dean jerked hard on the wad of Sam’s hair he had hold of. “Tell me why I should beat that pretty ass of yours red.” Dean looked down the long stretch of Sam’s torso to where his cock was pushing hard against his zipper. “Then you can tell me why I should let you come.”

Dean pushed him to his hands and knees. “And you better make it good.”

He had.

It hadn’t been perfect since god knows, their lives full of betrayals and separations and arguments and pain, but the cuffs had only left Sam’s wrist once after that when the right one had been torn off by a vampire in purgatory.

Sam managed to take it back through the portal with him, and Dean had stitched it back into place as soon as Bobby was safe in Heaven and Crowley was back in Hell.

The cuffs hadn’t budged since.

Sam’s collar was a different story. At first, he only wore it when they were in a scene. Slowly, he began to want it other times, as well. When Dean was in Purgatory, Sam started wearing it full time.

Amelia hated his collar but he told her in no uncertain terms it was never coming off and she better deal with it. When Dean made it out of Purgatory with a vampire and a chip on his shoulder the size of Sam, Amelia knew what was coming.

Sam couldn’t bring himself to be sorry. Not deep down where it counted. She said it always felt like she’d stolen Sam from someone else anyway. Sam thought borrowed was a better word for it, but it made the ending easier either way.

Dean’s face had twisted in utter fury when he’d seen Sam’s collar until he realized it was his. He’d scrambled to shove Sam’s shirt out of the way, clamping his fists over Sam’s wrists when he saw the cuffs - supple, soft and still in place.

“Are you done with her?”

“Depends,” Sam snapped. “You done with that _vamp_?” Sam spit the word vamp like the dirtiest insult he knew.

“What are you going to do when I’m the hunter that _ices_ him?” Sam hissed after Dean had called Benny and let him know they were done for awhile.

“I guess we’ll cross that bridge when we get to it,” Dean bit out. “Get into the goddamn car.”

Sam had. They hadn’t been parted since.

They’d settled since then, every day becoming one more smooth groove in the road they’d called home as long as they could remember.

It was the anniversary of the day Dean stitched the cuffs back on Sam - this time for good. Dean had something planned and Sam was lazy with anticipation, his body ready to be pampered then broken.

Dean came back to him and Sam drew him down for long kiss, keeping his hands still and stretching his neck up to Dean, mouth open and slick, leaving little question as to what he wanted.

Dean indulged him, always ready to use Sam’s mouth, his teeth, his breath. They kissed and kissed until Dean drew back, his face serious.

“Happy Anniversary, Sweetheart.”

“Dean,” Sam started, but sucked in a breath when he heard the too familiar sound of a handcuff snicking into place around his wrist.

“Dean,” he repeated, fighting against his initial discomfort and fear. He had been chained, tied, bound head to toe in rope and never so much as flinched, but cuffs… He hated cuffs and Dean knew that.

Dean hushed him, running a palm along Sam’s jumping stomach muscles. “Settle, Sam. There’s no need for this.”

Sam tugged against the cuffs, instinct perhaps or anxiety, hope that Dean hadn’t actually cuffed him dying quickly.

Dean let him.

He waited, patiently until Sam had exhausted his tugging and rattling. He was open and soft in a way he almost never was, not unless Sam needed it from him.

“Your other arm, Sam.”

Sam hesitated.

“Now, Sam.”

Dean swung the second set of cuffs in front of Sam then quickly and efficiently locked Sam to the headboard.

For long moments, Dean did nothing. He didn’t move and he barely blinked. Sam could feel his eyes on him like a light, silken thread.

Sam had been cuffed too many times and few of them had been for fun. It made him itch to be free, but this is what Dean had planned for him, so this is what would happen.

When Dean did move, it was to run his hands down Sam’s long legs and force them apart. Sam lay still and waited for whatever Dean had planned.

What that turned out to be was a hard, wonderful fuck.

“Knees up,” Dean said. “Hold them as high as you can and as wide.”

Sam planted his feet wide and close to his ass as possible.

“Up on your toes, Sam. High as you can and as wide.”

Sam did as he was told, grunting in pain when Dean shoved his knees wider than Sam had them.

“Keep them here.”

Sam was already shaking, his feet straining and his toes splayed against the comforter. The muscles in his legs were ropes struggling to keep his knees wide.

He failed when Dean sucked Sam’s cock root deep into his mouth with no warning. A hard slap to his taint had him straightening his legs back into place, but the warmth of Dean’s mouth made it nearly impossible to think properly.

“If you come now,” Dean said after he pulled off just as unexpectedly, “you won’t be allowed to come again. Decide carefully.”

“No,” he panted. “No, I want to come later.”

“Good boy.”

Then Dean set about making Sam’s life a living hell. 

“Do you want lube, Sam?”

“No,” Sam breathed. “Not this time.”

Dean nodded. “Keep your legs in place or I stop and leave you like this the entire night. Is that understood?”

Sam nodded frantically.

“Use your words,” Dean ordered.

“Yes, yes, understood.”

Dean leaned forward and put his hands on either side of Sam’s hips and pressed kisses to aching legs. “Don’t let me down.”

“No, sir.”

Dean took his cock in one hand and rubbed the tip over Sam’s hole, barely pushing. Sam stirred his hips, restless, and would have tried to force Dean inside if he thought he could get away with it. “So gorgeous, sweetheart.”

“Dean,” Sam pushed.

“Easy,” Dean warned, and Sam honest to god whined.

Dean chuckled, and propped a knee on the bed underneath Sam’s shaking leg and pressed inside Sam, all in one quick smooth push, stopping when he was just inside.

Sam had missed the burn and stretch of being fucked without lube. The bite of pain to go with all the pleasure. “Oh,” he moaned quietly.

Dean set up a smooth, churning stroke that had them both groaning, but then Dean pulled out, and slicked his hand quickly with sweat from his cock and spit, ignoring the unhappy noises Sam was making. As he pushed back in, he wrapped his hand around Sam’s cock.

“Don’t come,” he ordered.

“But you said,” Sam cried.

“I’ll tell you when you’re allowed,” Dean growled. “Not until then.”

Sam groaned and focused on keeping his legs in place.

As he found just the right angle to pound Sam’s prostate, Dean circled the tip of Sam’s cock against his palm, before clamping his fist around the shaft, jacking Sam fast and hard, Dean’s hips battering his prostate with an erractic, pounding rhythm.

“Not yet,” he said.

Sam rattled his cuffs, “I can’t…”

“You can.”

“No, I won’t be able…”

“You will.” Dean gritted out through his teeth. “Do you want my knot?”

“Yes,” Sam breathed. “Yes. I want your knot.”

“Then you’ll hold on, won’t you?”

“Dean,” Sam called, “please.”

Dean pushed further between Sam’s legs, leaning over his torso and staring at Sam.

Sam could feel Dean’s knot expanding against his rim and started to chant underneath his breath.

“Yes, yes, yes, yes.”

Dean raised up and shoved his knot as deep into Sam’s ass as he could and wrapped his hands tight around Sam’s own knot.

“Come, Sam.”

Sam did, spitting Dean's name like a curse and the other half like a prayer. Dean dropped Sam’s cock and grabbed his wavering legs, pressing them to Sam’s chest as his knot expanded, the clutch of Sam’s ass and his body twitching under Dean’s hands driving Dean to come.

“Dean,” Sam whispered. “Dean, please, give it all to me.”

Dean pushed, his knot lodging and sliding against Sam’s prostate in turn.

“Oh, god, Dean, I can’t…” Sam gasped for breath, his own cock still dribbling as his knot lay discarded and ignored on his abdomen. “Dean.”

It was these moments, when they were soul deep into things and the night was still and quiet and reverent all around them, when Sam could feel something huge and scary building in his gut. When he knew, without even thinking about it that this - that Dean - would be his undoing.

He’d run before - self protection all wrapped up and called necessity - and Dean had pushed him away and run him off, but there was no real running from this thing. This terrible, twisting love that took them over and wrung them out. Day after day; night after night.

They’d slashed each other to ribbons, then counted on their brother to put them back together again. Scars weren’t just on skin, but healing wasn’t either.

Sam had known he was fucked up for wanting his brother, another alpha. He’d known he was full of demon blood and good intentions. He’d known he was wrong to try, one last time, to let Dean go.

What he hadn’t known was the sheer depth and breadth of this thing. This all consuming, burn everyone in its path kind of love he and his brother had. They were never going to survive it.

He felt it, every time they did this thing, this joining of bodies, this symphony of skin. He felt how endless it was. How Dean was taking pieces of him with every strike of the cane or the paddle or the flogger.

How little bits of him were flying apart every time Dean drove into him with his tongue or his cock or his fist. How Dean was leaving pieces of himself behind, as well.

How, before too long, there’d be as much of Dean inside Sam as there ever was Sam.

It scared him, this thing they had. Well, maybe if he was honest, what scared him was how he wasn’t scared at all. What scared him was just how little he would care if Dean took him apart down to his very smallest molecules.

He’d let him.

Every single time.

Because Dean loved him before he was born and he’d never once stopped.

Not when Sam was trying to save the world but lost himself instead. Not when Sam was dying in front of Dean’s eyes in a bid to save the world just one last time. Not when Sam couldn’t even look at Dean for resenting him so much he couldn’t breathe.

Dean never stopped.

Sam would lie here in pieces and never worry that Dean wasn’t going to put him back together. Because as much as Dean was keeping Sam solid, Sam was the only thing keeping Dean from imploding, and no one knew that more keenly than Dean himself.

He’d been trying to tell Sam that for years.

This time, Sam was listening.

They were both acutely aware that there might come a time when they couldn’t save the world after all. When the only thing left was driving off a cliff or eating their own bullets. They anticipated this ending with every new curve Heaven or Hell decided to throw their way.

But that was alright.

They might leave a world on fire, but nothing could ever burn brighter than they did on their own.

Sometimes, the best part of a story was the ending anyway.

**

Sam Winchester didn’t wear much jewelry. Never had. Just a couple of wide leather cuffs and a collar around his neck.

No one asked about either. They didn’t dare.


End file.
